Leila's Story
by Lyndri
Summary: We are given only very general details about what really happened with Leila. What was is like between her and Christian while she was his sub? How is she doing now, after art school? Let's find out...
1. Chapter 1: My Master and My Gun

Author's Note: I am working on writing Leila's story, going back to perhaps slightly before she is Christian's sub. I started with the scene where Ana walks in on Leila in her apartment. I know this is towards the end of her story, but it seemed like a nice, solid place for me to start getting inside her head. You all basically know what happens here anyway. I really enjoyed writing this scene! I hope you enjoy reading it. All feedback (good or bad!) is welcome and appreciated.

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_The door buzzes, and I head upstairs to the apartment. It occurs to me that I have not been here since Saturday morning. That seems so long ago. Ethan has kindly left the front door open. I step into the apartment, and I don't know why, but I freeze instinctively as soon as I step inside. I take a moment to realize it's because the pale, wan figure standing by the kitchen island and holding a small revolver is Leila, and she's gazing impassively at me._

**James, E L (2011-09-13). Fifty Shades Darker: Book Two of the Fifty Shades Trilogy (p. 221). Random House, Inc.. Kindle Edition**.

* * *

_She is afraid. I understand afraid. _ I tilt my head from side to side, taking her in. She looks like me. And like all the others. But she is different. _Why is she different?_ She is staring at me. I chuckle at myself. _Of course she is, idiot. You look like shit, and you're holding a gun._

"Hi. Leila, isn't it?"

I am surprised by her words. She is trying to not be afraid, but her voice betrays her. I know she is. She should not be afraid. "She speaks."

"Yes, I speak. Are you here alone?"

_Alone._ Yes, if there is anything that I am, that I have been, that's it. So very, very alone. This one word sums up my existence, and pushes me towards the edge. "Alone. Alone," I mutter, my tone showing more of what I am feeling than I want it to.

"What are you doing here? Can I help you?"

Can she help me? No. This girl-like-me-but-not cannot help me. Why would she ask? My gun, my own, I let it go a little. I don't need it right now.

"Would you like some tea?" she asks. _Tea? _No, I don't want tea. I shake my head. I don't like tea. She starts moving around the kitchen, turns on a kettle for hot water. _She's making tea. With a crazy girl holding a gun in her apartment._ Yes, she is different. I move so I can see her. I do not know what she will do. I need to be able to watch her. I still have a gun, she should remember that. Although it isn't for her. Not her fault she's different.

Not for Mr. Grey either. No, Mr. Grey is happy. Master should be happy.

I could not make Master happy. I did try.

"Is there anyone else in the apartment?"

I catch myself twisting my hair. I stop. New Master did not let me twist my hair. New Master is not here. "Alone," I mutter, answering her question and sharing my feelings. "All alone."

"Are you sure you don't want tea or coffee?"

"Not thirsty," I answer. I step closer. I need to know. She is good enough. I never was. _Why was I never good enough?_ She takes out cups for tea. She is brave, but afraid. I can tell. How is she brave? "What do you have that I don't?"

"What do you mean, Leila?" An honest question.

"Master-Mr. Grey-he lets you call him by his given name." An honest answer.

"I'm not his submissive, Leila. Er… Master understands that I am unable, inadequate to fulfill that role."

I tilt my head to the side. I do not understand what she has said. She is inadequate? "In-ad-e-quate," I hear the word coming out of my mouth. This word does not match the girl-who-is-different. "But Master is happy. I have seen him. He laughs and smiles. These reactions are rare…" I pause, thinking of the reactions I normally see. "Very rare for him."

She looks like this surprises her. _You do not know the Master I know, then?_ _This is…strange. _"You look like me. Master likes obedient ones who look like you and me. The others, all the same…" I have seen pictures. The others, they are like us. "All the same… and yet you sleep in his bed. I saw you."

"You saw me in his bed?" she whispers. This has shocked her. Or scared her.

"I never slept in Master's bed." He did not allow it. I toy with my gun. It is time… no it is not. Not now. Not alone. I need Him to come. I make myself think of something else. "Why does Master like us like this? It makes me think something … something … Master is dark … Master is a dark man, but I love him." _Why am I telling her all this? _Words keep falling out of my mouth before I give them permission.

"Leila, do you want to give me the gun?"

I hug my gun. No. "This is mine. It's all I have left." I pet my gun. It will let me go back to my Master-who-is-gone. "So she can join her love."

A moment passes. She must not know what I mean, because she is now afraid but not brave. Before I can tell her that my gun is not for her, the door bursts open. _Master is here! _He looks first at _her_. Of course he does. She makes him happy. He looks at me next. And oh…that look! I know this look. He was like this after my accident. So angry with me for driving so carelessly, and so afraid I was hurt. He did not punish me for being careless. I deserved it, I knew that, but Master said I was already hurt and he would not hurt me more. That was when I knew he cared for me. _Not like I cared for him, though. _

But he _did_ care. Maybe he still does, even just a little bit. Maybe that is why he has that same look in his eyes. Maybe this was wrong. I did not want to hurt him. I just did not want to be alone in the end. My body sags. Master holds his hand up, signaling to Taylor. I did not see Taylor there. He is as invisible as always. I watch Master watching me. Anger is gone from his face. I do not know what to do anymore. This was supposed to be easy. He wasn't supposed to care for me… He cares for _her_. But he does care, and that changes everything. I am frozen. _Please, tell me what to do. I am lost._

Slowly, he changes into the man I knew. Tall, strong, in charge. My body responds automatically to its Master, breathing faster, my cheeks burning.

His lips form the word "_kneel" _and I do so immediately, the way I am supposed to. I still remember how to kneel the way that pleases him…legs spread, arms on my thighs. I hear my gun clatter across the floor, out of my reach. I want to cry. _That was mine. _A tear escapes my eye, blurring what I see somewhat. I see Master's feet as he walks towards where I heard my gun, and I think I hear him pick it up, but he is out of my line of sight.

"Anastasia, go with Taylor," he commands.

She whispers something that I do not understand.

"Downstairs."

A moment passes, and nothing happens. _She doesn't obey him?_

"Anastasia," he warns.

Still, nothing is happening. Master is standing in front of me, so close… _I must stay still, I must stay still… _

"For the love of God, Anastasia, will you do as you're told for once in your life and go!" His voice is cold and very angry. I know to obey him well when he speaks in that tone. _Do I ever know…_

"Taylor. Take Miss Steele downstairs. Now," I hear him say. I wonder how he will punish her for not obeying him. I am surprised he hasn't already. He could easily drag her to her knees by her hair. "Go. Back to the apartment." He pauses. "I need to be alone with Leila."

_Oh_. I feel a smile play on my lips. _He wants to be alone with me. _He wants me. And he is sending her away. He has no power over her, and he needs power. _See how much power you have over me, Mr. Grey? _Maybe…just maybe I can remind him of this, and maybe he'll want me instead. I will my smile away. I feel different than I have for the last few weeks. More like, myself? Less lost? Yes. I have a different purpose now. I can get my Master back. He still cares for me. He is angry with her, and she cannot be what he needs. She said it herself. _Inadequate_.

I hear Taylor speak to Miss Steele, and then Master speaks to Taylor. That girl still hasn't obeyed Master! How can she say she loves him?

I feel hands in my hair, stroking my head. Before I know I've done it, I nuzzle my head into his hand. Softly, gently, he reminds me to be still. I do. "Good girl," he says quietly. Oh, how I've missed this. Being at the feet of my Master, knowing he is pleased with me, feeling how he cherishes me. I surrender myself to the joy of the moment, loving his gentle touch and being still.

After a time, I don't know how long, his fingers reach under my chin and tip my head up. I gaze impassively through my lashes up at him. "Have you eaten?"

I shake my head no. I see his anger in his eyes for a moment. I know that I must eat. I had forgotten. When was the last time I ate? I don't know. I hope he isn't too angry with me.

"Stay there." His voice is gentle, but no-nonsense. I turn my head back to the floor while I hear him rustle around in the kitchen. "Hmm. Seems someone was going to make a cup of tea." He sounds amused, like he's enjoying a private joke. "Leila, did you know that tea is the answer to everything?"

"No, Sir."

"Hmm."

I hear the refrigerator open, some jars clanking against each other, and the door closes. He continues in silence as I watch his feet move around on the wood floor. Before too long, he is before me again. "Look at me, Leila."

I do.

"How many times do I have to tell you to take care of yourself?" There is no anger in his voice, annoyance maybe, but more than anything, I hear concern. "Eat this." He hands me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I almost want to laugh. _I mean, I know he doesn't cook, but peanut butter and jelly? Ridiculously rich Mr. Grey makes peanut butter jelly sandwiches? _It is a bit ludicrous. "Eat, Leila."

The sandwich is utterly unappetizing. I don't want it. I'm not hungry. I know how important it is to him that I eat, and I do so want him to be pleased with me, but I just don't think I can manage it. But I try. I do try. I manage three small bites before I let out a sob and I can eat no more. I let the sandwich fall from my hands. Master catches it before it hits the floor and sighs. He is displeased with me, I know, but I can't help it. I cast my face downward.

Master gently lifts my chin up to look at him. I watch as he tears off a bit of the sandwich and places it before my lips. He doesn't have to say anything, I know he is telling me to eat it. Reluctantly, I open my mouth, and he places the sandwich on my tongue without touching me. I chew, and swallow. A tear falls down my cheek. He brushes it away. Another bite, another tear. We make it almost halfway through the sandwich this way before I am crying too much to eat any more.

I don't know what's wrong with me! Just moments ago I knew what I was doing. Getting back my man, any way I could get him. And now, I'm a weeping, useless mess! _Get it together!_ But my sobbing continues. Mr. Grey begins to rub my head again. And it feels so good! My sobs quiet and my tears slow.

"Come." He stands and holds his hand out to me. Obediently, I place my hand in his, and he pulls me to my feet. I am a bit unsteady; I hadn't noticed until just now that my feet fell asleep while I was kneeling. He leads me to the bathroom, points to a vanity stool, and commands me to sit. I do. It is so much easier to have someone tell me what to do. I don't have to think or make myself to decide on my next move, all I have to do is obey. Master starts the water in the tub. Yes, this is so much simpler. I don't have to worry if what I am doing is right; I trust Master and know he will never hurt me. Well, being punished doesn't count. That is painful, but it never truly hurts, and it is always what I need.

I relax myself into our familiar routine. He commands, I obey. I lift my arms, He removes my shirt. I turn around, He unhooks my bra. Shoes, pants, panties. I step into the tub and sink into the water. _Ahhhh. It feels so good. When was the last time I did this?_ I move as he tells me, and he washes me. His touch is gentle, careful even. I know he is taking care of me in the way that I need. I know he would not hurt me. He cares for me. I relish in this knowledge. I feel at peace for the first time in I don't know how long.

"All clean, Leila. Good girl," he purrs. Those words make me float on clouds of joy! "Water feel good still?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Stay here. Wait for me."

"Yes, Sir." He leaves me alone in the bathroom. Outside, I vaguely hear him speaking to someone, on his phone I assume. He returns shortly, with a towel and clean clothes. I briefly wonder if those are _her _clothes. But it doesn't really matter.

"Leila, come. I'm going to dress you, and then a friend of mine whom you will speak with is coming to meet us."

I wonder who it could be? I don't want anyone to intrude upon my happiness, here, alone with my Master. But, Master knows best, and if this pleases him… I do _so _want to please him!

He dresses me and leads me to the living room, where he indicates I should sit on the floor by the couch. He sits on the couch, near me, and idly dries my hair with a towel, braids it… _oooh…now that brings back memories…_ unbraids it, and pulls it back into a simple ponytail.

There is a knock on the door. Mr. Grey rises to admit his friend. "Leila, this is Mr. Flynn. Say hello, Mr. Flynn."

"Hello, Mr. Flynn."


	2. Chapter 2: A Strange Invitation

**I've really enjoyed reading all your comments! I didn't really expect anyone to read what I wrote; I just did it for fun. But I am so glad that you all have liked it! Been too long since I put the last chapter up, so without further delay, here it is! I hope you enjoy :)**

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I turn my unusual piece of mail over and over in my hands. Expensive cardstock, embossed lettering, vellum in the middle. There is even a wax seal on the envelope! A lovely invitation to a gala celebrating the opening of the new gallery at the Seattle Art Museum has arrived for me, which I couldn't be more excited about. I've been looking forward to the grand opening for some time, but I fully expected to pay general admission and climb around busloads of bored school children in order to see the new pieces.

I reexamine the invitation. It isn't that surprising that I received an invitation to the formal event. I've been a member of the museum for a few years now. It's my favorite place in the city to be, surrounded by so much beauty and talent. What is surprising is that inside of the envelope is a ticket to the event, which I know carries a hefty pricetag in the name of supporting the arts, as well as a gift card to Neiman Marcus that doesn't have a monetary value on it anywhere that I can see. I assume this is so I can purchase something suitable to wear. I have several dresses courtesy of my most recent ex, but I don't own any formals except for a purple bridesmaid dress that I somehow don't think would be appropriate for this particular occasion. This is what bothers me. I could believe that the museum may have given me a ticket to the event as the staff is familiar with me and my love of the place. But the gift card? That's just too strange. I idly wonder if Jake had something to do with this. I didn't think he could afford something like this. Most of the dresses he put me in were of a JCPenny caliber.

I'm not going. No way. If this is Jake's doing, well, I told him no already. I have to stand my ground now, while it's easy. If I find myself face to face with him again, I know I will cave. If it's from someone else… I don't know what to think.

I locate the number to RSVP to the event on the bottom of the invite. I ought to call and decline, especially since they will already be counting me as I have a ticket. The woman who answers my call is polite and accepts my sincerest regrets without questioning me. I feel a twang of sadness; I really would have loved to go. It would have been wonderful. But, I know, it's for the best. The art will be just as lovely in the company of elementary kids as with decked out rich folks. It's not worth the drama of dealing with whoever feels they have the right to send me such an expensive gift without speaking to me.

Time to get ready for class. I dig in the bottom of my closet for a pair of jeans. Jeans! My long lost friends! I shimmy into them, loving the feel of denim on my skin, loving the feel of having my legs covered down to the ankle. I haven't worn a skirt in just over a week, but I still get a little giddy getting into a pair of pants. How I have missed this! It's nice to be able to wear what I want again. Maybe I won't go looking for another Dom anytime soon.

* * *

Classes were the same as always, with the exception that I could get in and out of desks without concern for modesty. I've been appreciating that all day. I know, I've been on that for a while. Try wearing nothing but skirts for five months, and then go back to jeans. You'll understand.

My phone buzzes with an incoming call as soon as I am outside the building. I don't recognize the number, so I ignore it. My phone pings that I have voicemail, but before I have a chance to check it, my phone rings again. It's the same number. _Guess it's important._ I answer. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon, Miss Williams. I hope I have reached you at a convenient time?"

"Convenient enough. May I ask who is calling?"

"Andrea Parker calling for Mr. Christian Grey. Please hold while I transfer you."

Christian Grey? I don't know that name. The phone rings once before it is answered by a male voice. "Miss Leila Williams. How very nice to have the chance to speak with you. I trust you have had a pleasant day thus far?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, but I don't believe I know you."

"Hmm." A quiet little sound that seems intrigued and pleased at once. "A situation I would like to correct, soon. You received my invitation in the mail?"

_Ah. And the mystery deepens._ "Yes, I did."

"Why did you decline, Miss Williams? I had hoped to meet you there, and I was under the impression that you are a fan of the SAM."

"Yes, sir, I am. I was confused by what came with the invitation. And, I'm sorry, but I still don't know who you are."

His voice frowns. "I am Christian Grey. I thought that had been communicated to you already."

He says that as if he was introducing himself as Johnny Depp and I ought to know who he is. "Are you with the museum?" This is the best thing I can think of to say without outright telling him that his name means nothing to me. That would just be rude.

He's silent for a moment. "No, Ms. Williams. I'm quite a successful businessman. Philanthropist. Supporter of the arts. Google me later." He's definitely irritated.

_Unbelievable. Who does this joker think he is anyway? _I don't have time for this. By now I've made my way to the bus stop. It's due in five minutes, and I'm headed straight to work. Let's cut to the chase, shall we? "Alright, I will. Listen, I really don't mean to be rude or ungrateful, but I really am confused. Why would you send me something like this?"

"Because I wanted to meet you." As if that is a perfectly good reason and I should be flattered.

"You're looking for a date? Surely you have your choice of companions." _Women you wouldn't have to buy a dress for._

"I do, Ms. Williams. I do. And I'm not looking for a date. I will meet with you at the gala. There is something rather interesting I wish to discuss with you."

I'm so lost. Is this some kind of a scam? I'm running out of patience with this mystery. "I'm just about to leave for work. I'm not really interested in meeting a stranger who sends me expensive gifts and won't tell me what he wants. Thanks, but no thanks. Have a nice day, Mr. Grey."

"I realize you have no reason to trust me at this time. I want to change that. What I want to ask you about is not something I like to discuss on the phone, but I think you will find it mutually beneficial. And I don't accept rejection easily, Ms. Williams. Do consider my offer, and I will be in touch. I'll let you go, for now. Wouldn't want you to miss your bus." And the call ends.

I'm floored and speechless. How did he know I take the bus? _Lucky guess, that's all. Lots of people take the bus._ But I'm not convinced. He had my cell number, my address, knows my favorite museum, managed to call right after my last class, why wouldn't he know I take the bus? I should definitely stay away from this stalker.

I swipe my ORCA card for my fare and take my seat as near the front of the bus I can find. My ride to work is about fifteen minutes, so I decide to make use of them and Google my strange stalker. _Know thy enemy._ The photos capture my attention immediately. What I see is a young, good looking guy with an odd, but strangely appealing, shade of red hair. _Wow_. At least I have a hot stalker. He can't be much older than I am. I tap my phone to pull up a full size image for a better look. His eyes are very light, blue? No, there's really no color to them. Gray eyes. Alright. Well, I know I would recognize him if I saw him. He's pretty unforgettable. Next, I see Christian Grey in the news. I tap a recent article and scan over it, catching bits here and there about his generosity to third world countries and his enormous wealth.

I'll look more in depth later. For now, I have a vague idea who Christian Grey is. Assuming that whoever is bothering me is really Christian Grey.

I have just a bit of a walk from the bus stop by Northgate Mall to the sushi place I work in. It's misting outside, but it's not too bad. Just a bit chilly. I'm glad that my manager lets me keep my uniform at work so I can change in the bathroom when I get there. I actually have about half an hour before my shift starts, and a while after that before the restaurant opens.

I'm friendly enough with my coworkers, but I'm not really close to anyone here. It's a shame, too, because maybe I could share a ride with someone to get here otherwise. I really hate taking the bus. Kym is probably the girl I'm closest too, but even that only goes so far.

Work goes as per usual. I'm a pretty good waitress, actually. I get good tips, and I enjoy my work. I like making people happy, and I love moving around and being busy.

Kym tells me I have a new table-of-one. Not my favorite type of table, but oh-well. I put on my "sweet, quirky" waitress smile and go to introduce myself. I stop just short of my table, so glad that my customer is facing the other way. I can't help but notice that he has a strange shade of red hair. _If this is who I think it is…_ No way. It's gotta be a coincidence. But, really, who else has _that_ color hair?

I walk back to Kym and beg her to take my table. But she turns me down pretty quickly. I know she has a full load, and like I said, we're not that close.

_Suck it up, Leila_. He'll be here for an hour, tops. Just treat him like any other customer. _You can do this. It may not even be him. _I walk around the other way so I can see him before I introduce myself.

But it is him. _Damn. _I am officially freaked out. I take a breath. I can do this. It seems like I'm not going to get away from this guy, so I need to face him and figure out what it's going to take to get him to leave me alone. "Game face on, big smiles!" I hear my manager in my head, reciting what I swear he tells all of us every day. I'll just pretend I don't know who he is. Let him make the first move. Sure, that's a great plan.

"Good evening to you. My name is Leila…" I continue my speech habitually, trying to mean the smile I have plastered on my face. I wonder if he can tell how nervous I am. As a side note, I realize that he is much better looking in person, as if that were possible. He's in a white shirt that is tailored nicely and emphasizes his lovely physique.

He flashes me a stunning smile. I swear this man would stop traffic. "Good evening to you as well, Leila." He lingers on my name. Creepy, but hot. I struggle to keep on track and offer him some wine or sake. He picks a crisp white. A great choice, really. One of the most expensive ones on the wine list. Of course.

I leave to get his wine. He'll probably want a glass of ice water, so I grab one of those as well. On my way back to him I realize I forgot to check on my other tables while I was passing by. _Why did this guy have to come bother me at work? Ugg. _I am thrown completely off my game.

I pour his wine without my usual flourish and place his water on a napkin. He frowns. "I didn't ask for water."

Oh boy, here we go. "I'm sorry, sir. People usually end up asking for water, so I thought you might want it later. I can get it out of your way."

He's quiet for a moment, his head slightly to the side as he appraises me. He lets out a low, sensual "hmm" and smiles at me. I'm imprisoned by his gaze. _I wish I knew what he was thinking. _I know I should be more afraid than I am, but he's just so damn beautiful.

"That's alright, Leila. It was very thoughtful. Thank you."

I don't know why, but there's something about his tone and his words that make my insides purr with satisfaction. I find myself thinking of a dark room and the smell of leather… I would enjoy pleasing this man. _No Leila! He's a stalker, remember! Keep it together!_ I force the thought away, but the feeling stubbornly lingers on.

I find myself making an extra effort for him throughout the meal. I pour a bit more wine in each glass than I should, smile more, check on him more, and even snag a piece of sashimi for him to try with his roll. I think I do it for that smile that I get when he is pleased about something. I really need to watch myself. I really need to let him know that I know who he is and ask him why he came to my job. Waiting for him isn't working.

He's eaten every single thing I've put on the table. Time to sell dessert. I pick up the dessert tray and carry it to his table. _Deep breath. Here we go. _"Manage to save any room for dessert, Mr. Grey?"

He smirks at me. "I thought you would never ask, Ms. Williams."

"Why are you here?"

He ignores my question. "Nice to see you did Google me, as I told you to."

"I needed to know who was stalking me."

He frowns. "Stalking? I suppose you would think that. I had a feeling I wasn't going to convince you to come to the gala next weekend, so I decided to come to you. I did tell you I don't take rejection well."

I set down the dessert tray. "I would love it if you would tell me what you want from me."

He flashes a mischievous little grin at me. "I would love to tell you what I want."

Why is he having so much fun bugging me? "Why don't you, then?" I'm getting mad, and not making much attempt to hide it.

He sighs. "All joking aside. There is some paperwork to complete. Do you have to close tonight?"

"Not tonight. I'm off at ten-thirty."

"Will you allow me to take you for a drink after work?"

I sigh. "I really just want you to leave me alone."

"I want you to hear what I have to offer you first. Then, if that's still what you want, I will."

"Fine," I concede. "I'll meet you at Ram at about ten forty-five."

"Good. Now, how about some dessert?"


	3. Chapter 3: Paperwork

I can hardly wait to get this over with. Partly because, if I am honest with myself, I do want to see him again. My shift isn't over soon enough! I fly through my end-of-the-night routine, and don't even bother to change out of my uniform. I figure I need to take it home and wash it anyway.

When I get to the Ram, I give the hostess and nod and a smile and make my way to the bar where I see Mr. Grey sitting with a drink sitting in front of him. He looks completely at ease, though I imagine that this is not the type of place he usually spends his evenings out. I slip onto a stool next to him, trying to look as though I were equally comfortable. He turns to look at me, and I am again imprisoned by his intense gaze. I've never seen eyes like his before; they really are beautiful. I try to match his gaze, to show him that I'm not intimidated by him, but it doesn't take long to lose that battle and I break eye contact. My eyes fall to a manila envelope on the bar in front of him. I do wonder what's inside, but I wait for him to speak first.

He takes his time about it too, slowly finishing off his drink. I find it odd that the bartender hasn't come to offer me one- not that I want anything right now. In fact, I don't even see the bartender. I look around the restaurant, and I realize that I don't really see _anyone_-no servers or customers, except for one guy with an ill-suited buzz cut at the other end of the bar and the hostess. This is beyond weird, and I'm really feeling quite uncomfortable now. I just know this guy had something to do with the place being cleared out. Should I run? I wouldn't get that far probably; I have a hunch that the guy at the end of the bar is with this Mr. Grey. _What have I gotten myself into?_

"Well now Ms. Williams, let's get right to business." He pulls a couple sheets of paper out of the envelope and passes them to me, as well as a pen. "This is a non-disclosure agreement. Before we go any further, you will read and sign this."

Sure, whatever. I'm kind of cornered here, so what else am I going to do? Besides, if I break it, what does he plan to do, sue me? Take my tips from serving? Ha! So, I read and sign the damn thing without saying a word and pass it back to him.

"Sign the second copy. That's for you to keep."

Fine. I sign and slip it into my messenger bag.

"Good. Now we can talk candidly. I'm an established Dominant looking for a submissive. I have very specific tastes in my subs, and you seem like you will do very well. You were recommended to me by a DM here in Seattle."

_Whoa, what? _My brain goes about twenty directions at once. I gotta say that this is just about the last thing I expected; I was expecting some stupid time-share scam or something. I'm not all that surprised though; it does go a little way to explain my reaction to him. I think back to that little unbidden thought I had about pleasing him, and quickly push it away. _I need to act on common sense here._

I was recommended by a DM…_Dungeon Master? _ I never was very big into the scene here, but I did go out some with Jake while I was his. I know it's their job to keep a close eye on everyone to make sure things stay safe and sane, but I didn't think they also watched for potential partners for people who paid them to look, which is what I assume is the case here.

But seriously, who the hell does he think he is anyway? I'm not going to just sub for any random Dom who comes up to me and tells me to. _Submissive does not equal doormat. _

I need to find a way to respectfully walk away from this. "Look, I really know nothing about you. I'm flattered that you would seek me out this way." I'm trying to be polite, but as I speak I realize that I really am a bit flattered. "I'm really not looking for anyone right now, least of all a complete stranger. I have to be able to trust you, and I'm sorry, but I don't right now. I have no reason to."

"Fair point. Of course, I need you to trust me completely. You may speak with a few of my ex-subs if you would like to."

He doesn't get it. I'm not negotiating, I'm saying no. I do have that right. "Thank you for your offer, really. I'm not interested in a relationship right now. I just came out of one, and there was some drama there. I'd like to be on my own a while." Which is true, I think.

He frowns at me. _Now he's starting to understand._ "I do need to ask you about that. I understand that you terminated your contract with your previous Dominant before the end of the term. I need to know why."

_I was wrong. He doesn't understand at all._ I thought I was being pretty clear without being rude, but I guess not. Or he's just not used to being told "no" so he doesn't know what it sounds like, which I can believe. He's ridiculously wealthy, so he can buy anything he wants, like an empty restaurant for a private conversation (which I think I'm grateful for now). And he's been a Dom for a while, which speaks for itself.

I smile sweetly at him to soften my words. "You're not hearing me here. Thank you, but I'm not interested."

The look he gives me makes me want to melt onto the floor, or run. He's angry with me, and it's terrifying. I don't run of course, even though everything in my brain says that I should, because my body won't obey my orders. I find myself looking at the floor. Eventually, he speaks to me, his voice straining. "That's too bad. You seem like a damn fine submissive. Take this," he slides the manila envelope over to me. "This is my contract. I will send you contact information for a couple of my exes. If you change your mind, you will know how to reach me. Good night." He stalks off without giving me a second glance. The way he shoves his stool back in place makes me wince.

I watch him storm out. I hear him say something to the other man at the bar as he passes by, and he immediately gets up and follows him out.

I sit at the bar in shock for I don't know how long. After a time, someone offers me a drink. It takes a minute to realize that I'm no longer alone here- the workers are back and a few people trickling in. _I guess Mr. All-Powerful gave the ok for normal operations to resume._ I ask for a beer, whatever's on tap is fine. I definitely need one after that little encounter.


End file.
